


After Hours

by ForzaOUAT



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut, Smutlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:17:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForzaOUAT/pseuds/ForzaOUAT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Gold finds Lacey playing pool in a bar. This was a prompt from tumblr: Lacey and Gold angry sex!</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Hours

Lacey was unused to being told what to do. Certainly not by a man. Definitely not by this man. He was looking at her as if she were a pariah, a leper, a woman to whom he would not give the time of day were she not in the body of his precious Belle. And frankly, it was getting on her nerves. Who was he to say that the memories; the person she had lost were better than the woman she was now? It was infuriating. He stood there, on his high and mighty morals, judging her and she was quickly running out of patience. She had heard about the infamous Mr. Gold. He was supposedly cold, calculating, mean, and did not tolerate idiocy of any kind. From all indications he was not a nice person, and yet he stood there on the other side of the pool table watching her; doing nothing. 

She studiously ignored him. If he was determined to act like this she would simply refuse to acknowledge his presence. Was it juvenile? On some levels, yes, it was. On others, it was a way to prevent herself from staring at him. Because despite his ability to piss her off on every possible level, he was also one of the most attractive men she'd ever met. Perhaps not on an aesthetic level, although probing brown eyes and long, shaggy brown hair were definitely in her type range, it was the air of charisma and power surrounding him that drew her eyes over and over. She had felt it earlier in the night. All pent up passion and bottled rage. She had sensed his presence the moment he'd walked into the bar. He was, in fact, accompanied by a man who was the very definition of extremely attractive. Tall, blond, with blue eyes and a cheerful demeanor and yet she did not feel drawn to him at all. In fact she didn't feel drawn to anyone ...except Mr. Gold, and that, in and of itself, was unnerving.

Her eyes flicked to him without her consent and she sighed, lining up her shot. He was wrecking havoc on her pool game. Why didn't he just leave? Perhaps if he left well enough alone his Belle would come out the other side eventually. And yet ...Lacey sensed that Belle would not want to go back to the sweet, naive, little girl that Gold seemed to treasure. If they were, in fact, the same person ...different facets of the same personality, then Lacey represented everything Belle had repressed through the years. A desire to cut loose, have fun, belong to no one but herself. Lacey had no doubt that these feelings lived inside Belle and no matter what happened, nothing would change what was already there. 

When she missed knocking the eight ball in for the 5th time, she sighed and straightened, stretching her back with as much sexual innuendo she could muster. Letting her breasts strain against the tight blue shirt she was wearing. She watched him swallow, saw his eyes dilate, his mouth open just slightly with desire before he composed himself and hid once again behind a mask of chivalry. “What is it that you want, Mr. Gold?”

He looked surprised that she had spoken to him at all. “To talk. I just want to talk.”

“So, buy me a drink and we'll talk,” she said, putting the pool cue back in the rack and walking toward the bar without looking to see if he was following her. 

She felt a strong hand wrap around her upper arm and stopped, shooting him the most venomous look in her arsenal. He dropped his hand immediately. “Can we talk without alcohol?”

“Frankly,” she responded. “If this is going to get really deep, I think I need a drink.” She hopped on a bar stool and tossed a dazzling smile at the bartender. “Scotch and soda.”

 

Gold sighed heavily, but sat down next to her. “Just scotch. No soda.” He put a bill on the bar and looked at this woman who was Belle and yet ...was not Belle. “Can we at least go to a table?”

Lacey picked up her drink. “Fair enough.”

As they made their way through the bar, a man stepped directly into their path. Gold glanced up, hoping the look on his face would be enough to get the man to back off. It did not. He looked past Gold to Lacey. “Hey there, sweet thing. I thought we were going to play pool.” He moved around Gold and when he brushed his entire body against her, Gold saw red.

Lacey smirked. “Another time, Keith. I have other plans.”

Keith started to reach for her; to reiterate that she had made plans with him already when a cane came smashing down on his wrist. He heard bones breaking as pain flooded his senses. “I think you heard the lady, Keith,” Gold said, his voice dripping with a promise of more pain. “She has plans. I suggest you don't bother her again.”

Nursing what was likely a broken wrist, Keith wandered off and Gold refocused on Lacey. She was watching him, her breathing thready, her tongue resting on her bottom lip, her eyes sparkling with interest. She was aroused, and that knowledge lit a fire inside him that he attempted to tamp down by throwing back his scotch in one go and leading her to a table. He was not going to be able to actually talk if she kept looking at him like that. “I'm going to get another drink.”

She reached out and grasped his hand, pulling him into the chair beside her. Once she was sure he was settled and not trying to get up, she waved at the bartender who nodded and Gold found himself presented with another drink several moments later. She did not release his hand, but simply held it while she sipped at her own drink. He closed his eyes, desperately trying to find some sort of calm in the upheaval that was his emotional state. He downed his second drink and it was replaced almost immediately. At this rate he was going to be plowed in the next half hour and the conversation he had in his mind would be completely lost. It was difficult to think already, with the feeling of her fingers threaded through his. Put three shots of scotch on top of that and he was quickly becoming incapable of coherence.

He stood suddenly, pulling away from her and clearing his throat. “I need to run out to my car. I ...I left something. Will you wait?”

Lacey smiled. “You're not deserting me are you?”

He let his eyes meet hers so that she would see the truth in his words. “Absolutely not. I just have to grab something.”

She nodded and he hurried, without trying to look like he was actually running, out the door. Truth was he needed to be away from her for a moment. To clear his mind and get some fresh air. He went around the corner into the alleyway where he had parked and found Keith, quite literally, under his car. “What the hell do you think your doing?”

The man scooted out, his face covered with oil and Gold saw stars. The bastard was sabotaging his car. If asked later, Gold would not have been able to say what caused him to act next. Irrational anger, unwelcome lust, unsettling desire, all of which was aimed toward Lacey, but as he had no intention of harming her, he took it out on Keith. When the cane came down the first time, he didn't notice the man at his feet curling into a ball to protect internal organs. He didn't hear when Keith began to grunt in pain, or when the cane fell on his throat cutting off his cries for mercy. He didn't notice where the cane was falling. It was Moe French all over again. Rage consumed him and he silently screamed for someone to stop him before he killed the man. A gasp from behind was what made him pause. When he turned and saw Lacey standing there, her eyes on Keith, he staggered away and watched as the man crawled off into the darkness. When he looked back at Lacey there was obvious interest smoldering in the depths of those stunning blue eyes. “You really are as dark as people say.” 

He felt that gaze sweep down his body and back up to his face. He hardened instantly as every wall he had put up to keep Lacey at a distance came crumbling down. He was out of breath, angry, spoiling for another fight and therefore spoke before he could get control of his tongue. “Sorry I ruined your night of splendid fucking, sweetheart. I don't think he's up for it.” He saw it when her arm came up, watched as she swung her hand around and knew he deserved to be slapped, yet his instincts took over and he caught her wrist, backing her against the wall and pinning her there.

Her eyes sparked with desire. “Now what are you going to do?”

He didn't think. He should have, but he didn't. It had been so long since he'd been this close to Belle, so long since he'd felt her body pressed against his, far too long for him to pull away now when both their tempers were built to the point of combustion. He crushed his lips down on hers and heard her make a small mewling sound in the back of her throat. It only served to stoke the fire inside of him, probing her lips until she opened her mouth and plundering his way inside. She responded in kind. Taking what he offered, threading her fingers through his hair and oh God, it felt wonderful to have her there. In that moment he couldn't bring himself to care if this was Belle or Lacey. She was the woman he loved no matter what personality she wore and he wanted her so desperately he found himself unable to pull away.

His lips trailed fire from her temple, down her neck to her collarbone and she gasped, arching her back, pressing her breasts against him. The sound he made was not human as he ripped the shirt from her shoulders, exposing her to the waist. She wore no bra and his mouth immediately found a nipple, sucking it into his mouth, feeling her squirm with pleasure against him. She did not seem to care about the state of her clothing. Had she no modesty at all? Those thoughts were drowned in uncontrollable need when he felt her fingers at his belt. She made quick work of it, pulling it off and dropping it to the ground. He didn't care. It was expensive. It was alligator skin. And he still cared not at all that it probably landed in the mud. His mouth explored her other nipple as her fingers scrabbled at the button of his pants. When she pushed a hand inside and wrapped it around his erection he lost whatever small bit of control he'd been clinging to. He needed her. And he knew, without a doubt, that he was not stopping now.

Gold drew away from her and her eyes filled with question until she heard the familiar 'chirp' that indicated he'd unlocked his car. Her eyes clouded with need, desire, want, excitement as he pulled open the door and ushered her into the back seat. She reached for him the moment he closed the door, pulling the collar of his shirt to drag his lips to hers once again. He hadn't needed the incentive. He kissed her with the desperation of a drowning man who's only hope for survival was sitting in front of him. He ravished her lips, sucked her tongue, and pulled moans of appreciation from her. He didn't realize she had removed her rather short skirt until his roaming hand came in contact with her wet center. He groaned, plunging his fingers into that warmth, feeling, touching, pressing, until she was writhing beneath him.

Her hands opened his trousers and pulled him free, resuming the stroking she had started outside. He buried his face in her neck, pressing kiss after kiss to her face, temple, shoulder. Something, anything to distract him from what she was doing. If he focused on the pleasure he was not going to last long. 

He slipped a finger inside her, felt her clenching around it and nearly lost his mind. Gods he loved her so much. He had dreamed of this every night since she had moved out of his home. Every. Single. Fucking. Night. It had been an exquisite torture, to be sure, but it had not been the same. It had not been this woman in his bed. It had been a memory, and while pleasant it did not compare to feeling her heat and knowing it was all for him.

Lacey gasped, tried to pull him closer, wanted to feel him inside her. It was need so powerful it frightened her and yet she could not seem to make it stop. It felt deliciously erotic and familiar at the same time. She opened her mouth to ask him if they have been intimate before but his mouth cut off the question. And what a mouth it was. His lips were both harsh and gentle, suckling at her lip, tasting her, and then plundering with fury. She could do nothing but hold on to him, kiss him back and hope it was adequate to sate the rising desire inside her. “Please.”

It took her several moments to realize that she had spoken at all. He lifted his head to look into her eyes and the word escaped her again. “Please.”

She saw a smile twitch on his face and then disappear. He braced his hands on either side of her head and lowered his body slowly onto hers. Even as he pressed himself inside her it was not rushed. This was not the man who had backed her against the wall only an hour before ...was it? How could he be both demanding and gentle? And then even that thought left her mind. He was fully sheathed inside her, his body taunt with the need to move and yet he did not. It was torture, and it was pleasure. It was absolute joy and overwhelming terror. That he should feel so right, so perfect inside her seemed wrong somehow. That their bodies seemed to fit together like pieces of a puzzle was disturbing. He lifted his body until he was almost completely out again and his tenuous hold on his sanity snapped. He thrust back inside her with reckless abandon and she gasped, grabbing his shoulders. There was the fiery man she'd met earlier. 

Lacey pressed up to meet him and heard him take in a breath, hissing between his teeth. He was trying to maintain some semblance of control, even now, and she was determined to take it from him. She wrapped her arms around him, hooked her feet behind his thighs and used her body to pull him inside her harder. He made a sound that must have indicated surrender because he gave up pretenses and thrust inside her letting his head drop to her shoulder as they found a rhythm and seemed to rock to the beat of their hearts. She felt it when the heat pooled in her center, felt it grow as she ran her nails down his back. She took in a rasping breath, her hands grabbing his ass and pulling him to her again and again. He groaned, his thrusts losing their rhythm, becoming harder, faster and she knew he was close. She wanted to see him come undone, this beautiful man who always seemed so in control. She wanted to watch him as he lost himself in her body and so she whispered to him. Nonsensical things, words with no rhyme or reason, but it was enough. The sound of her voice was enough. 

He reached down between them and dragged his thumb across her clit and she spasmed agaisnt him. It took only a few strokes before her mind clouded with pleasure and her body exploded, lights dancing across her vision. He managed one more thrust before he too cried out and came hard inside her. “Shit.” It seemed to be all he was capable of at the moment. 

She didn't even try to speak ...she knew it was pointless. Instead she stroked his hair as his body became limp. He tried to roll to the side, but she held him where he was. “You'll fall on the floor.”

“I'll crush you.”

Lacey wrapped her arms around him. “I don't mind. Just until we're able to move again, Rumple. Okay?”

He went perfectly still, his eyes coming up to search her face. “What did you call me?”


End file.
